


Breathe Through, Ride Through

by masonjars



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fingering, M/M, Phone Sex, face time sex, nastiness, slight cheating but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 15:40:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3387152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masonjars/pseuds/masonjars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I forgot you got your hair cut, makes you look fitter than you already were before.” Harry grins, and bites his bottom lip. Zayn laughs, because he knows how Harry gets when he’s drunk. All the girls he’s pulled when they were barely legal and pissed in bars, the first time Harry sucked his dick in a hotel room after a girl had got on the taxi home. He wonders if it’s that kind of call for Harry."</p><p>Harry facetimes Zayn late one night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe Through, Ride Through

**Author's Note:**

> The product of being snowed in for four days, and listening to the emotional songs on Drake's new mixtape on repeat. 
> 
> I forgot to add that Shahid is Naughty Boy. I couldn't refer to a grown man as "Naughty boy" and I assumed that Zayn would call him by his real name lmao. 
> 
> Title from Madonna by Drake.

It’s 2 in the morning, and he’s so drunk his vision is swimming. His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he ignores it to take a shot with Shahid. He’s uncoordinated and some of it dribbles down his throat, which makes Shahid and the rest of the boys cackle. He laughs too and wipes his chin dry with his jacket sleeve, his phone goes dead without him even thinking about it. The next morning, when he’s finally charged it enough to have it turn on again, he sees 2 missed calls from Harry. He’s feels nauseous, hot, dizzy, and he can’t call back before Shahid’s fucking cat launches on him from his perch beside the coach he’s sleeping on as soon as Shahid and Jawaad walk into the living room. He forgets all about it while Shahid takes pictures of him kissing Barry’s paw.

  
The next night, Zayn’s finally gotten back home from Shahid’s studio. His house is practically spotless from spending so much time out recently. All of his pets are gone, staying with Perrie because of how close tour is.

He checks his phone, replies to some of the texts he had gotten. He even scrolls through his Twitter, replies back to Shahid’s tweets and tweets something useless about traveling with an exhausted looking emoji. He really is tired, and he pulls on a pair of joggers before laying down in bed. It’s fun, hanging out with all the boys and smoking and drinking, but he needs breaks after spending days in Shahid’s studio. Sometimes he needs a quiet house with just the TV or an album on low. And he’s doing just that, watching some trash reality TV before he plans to order take out, when his phone rings and lights up, telling him someone is facetiming him. It’s Harry. He must be drunk, and normally Zayn would decline but he still feels some guilt for never calling him back. He sits up and answers it.

“Zayn!” he hears Harry bellow before he appears, his hair pulled into a lopsided bun. He’s definitely pissed.

“I’m very angry with you, you never called me back the other night. Could have been a serious crisis,” Harry drawls out, voice raspy and deep over the phone speaker.

“I was busy, at a friend’s house,” Zayn says, runs a hand through his hair out of habit, and he’s about to tease Harry on his Hawaiian print shirt when Harry’s eyes go wide.

“I forgot you got your hair cut, makes you look fitter than you already were before.” Harry grins, and bites his bottom lip. Zayn laughs, because he knows how Harry gets when he’s drunk. All the girls he’s pulled when they were barely legal and pissed in bars, the first time Harry sucked his dick in a hotel room after a girl had got on the taxi home. He wonders if it’s that kind of call for Harry.

“You like it?” he says, but Harry’s talking to someone out of frame. His face is turned, and Zayn can see the cut of his jaw. Zayn misses it, fucking with Harry on tour. Of all the times Harry has sucked him to the root, Zayn’s fingers digging into his jaw line to fuck his mouth.

Harry’s whole face comes back into the screen, smiling.

"Say hi to Jeff!" he cheers, turning the phone so Jeff’s in the screen. He got a beer bottle in one hand but he waves with his other. Zayn waves back.

"Doesn’t Zayn’s new hair look good?" Harry asks from off screen, and Jeff gives him a thumbs up.

Zayn snorts, and says thanks. Harry can be a lot to handle when he gets into his loud stage of intoxication. He never shuts the fuck up.

"And here’s Jeff’s lovely girlfriend," Harry says as she walks up to Jeff, hugging him from behind.

"Aww, how sweet, Harry," she laughs, "Hi, Zayn."

Zayn waves again, and Harry turns the camera back to himself.

"I’m going to my bed room for a minute," he yells to them, even though he’s right beside them, and the camera shifts to a very flattering angle of the underside of Harry’s chin.

"Bit rude to leave your guests alone, isn’t it?" Zayn jokes once Harry’s flopped down onto his own bed.

"Bit rude to be talking to your mates with a stiffy, isn’t it?" Harry mocks, giggling like a child despite the dirtiness of what he’s just said.

"Harry!" Zayn laughs, can’t help it, “That’s why you FaceTimed me, huh? Thought I would be up to get myself off with you?”

"I knew you would be," Harry huffs, starts on unbuckling his jeans.

"What would you have done if I was with Pez when you called?"

Harry shrugs, “you’d go to the bathroom or something.”

"You think I’m as easy for it as you are?" Zayn laughs, amused.

“I know you are. You would’ve hung up already if you weren’t. Just can’t resist my prick, Zayn. It’s alright.” Harry teases. Zayn can see the up and down motion of Harry’s arm as he jerks himself off over his jeans.

Zayn knows he shouldn’t, he’s got a girl he could call and pull himself off in front of if he got that desperate. He doesn’t want to think about it, what Perrie would say if she saw him right now. Part of him thinks she wouldn’t care.

“Let’s see it then,” is what he says instead.

Harry grins, the smile he always pulls when he gets exactly what he wants. He switches it to the back camera and angles it to the thick line of his dick in his blue jeans.

"Gimme a second, want you to see all of me," Harry says as he starts to sit up. He leaves his phone on the bed, and Zayn gets a shot of his white ceiling for a few minutes. He can hear Harry moving something across the carpet, and finally Harry picks his phone back up. He sets it up on something across from the bed, probably his desk, and now Zayn has a clear shot of all of him.

"Went through all that trouble just to show off for me?" Zayn teases. He loves it though, loves that he can see his whole body.

"Want you to be able to see my face, not just my dick." Harry bites his bottom lip again, laughs.

He’s sat himself on the edge of the bed, in his thin white t-shirt. His legs are spread wide, feet planted on the floor. He lets his hair down from the bun, shakes it out until the thick curls frame his face cutely. Harry always has a sort of cherub face, even when he’s about to pull himself off for Zayn on camera. He takes of his shirt then, goes slow so Zayn can see the muscles in his stomach move. The butterfly tattoo looks stark in the low lighting of Harry’s bedroom. He pauses for a second, looks at Zayn through his iPhone camera lens like he needs instructions.

"Go on. Give me a show," Zayn says, and it springs Harry into action. He reaches up and pinches his own nipple, rolls it with his thumb until it’s hard and red. He switches to the other, bites his bottom lip hard and lets out a huff of air.

"Are you gonna let me see your prick now?" Zayn asks, slides his hand down to feel over the length of himself.

Harry nods, opens the button to his jeans and starts to shimmy out of them. It takes him a minute, probably the alcohol in his system and how skin tight they are, but he gets them off with his pants as well. He’s glistening wet at the tip, hard and sticking to his stomach. He wishes he was with Harry, wants to reach down and suck the precome off.

"You look so hot, H," Zayn says. He likes to give Harry praise, because of the smile Harry gives him when he receives it. Harry's beaming into the camera.

"You like my ferns? I think they frame my dick pretty nice." Harry laughs, wraps his hand around his cock.

Zayn snorts, shakes his head. “You're ridiculous.”

Harry just laughs in response, starts to gets caught up in the motion of his hand. He’s letting out little whimpers, fisting himself fast and hard. Hard enough to that it would have to hurt a bit, Zayn thinks, and it makes his cock jump a bit in pants.

"I think it would be hot if you told me what to do," Harry pants, flicking his thumb hard over the head of his cock.

It reminds him of the end of last tour, when Harry would always ask Zayn to give him instructions, and to praise him when he does something right. It’s hot, Zayn likes the way it always makes Harry come hard, makes him so plaint. It’s easy to fall back into that role again.

"What got you so hard? I thought you were hanging out with Jeff?" Zayn prompts. He slides his hand down his joggers. He’s surprised Harry hasn’t demanded that he turn the camera on his cock; the only thing Harry’s seen of him this whole time is his face.

"Thought about the last time we fucked," he gasps out, hand still working over himself, "how you held me down, wouldn’t let me come for ages. I really liked that."

"Stop touching yourself." Zayn says, and Harry’s hand immediately stills.

"You want that again, next tour? Want me to get a hand around your throat, fuck you into the bed?" Sometimes it surprises him the filth that can come out of his mouth.

Harry gasps out loud, nods eagerly.

"That’s what you want right now, isn’t it? Want me to be there so I can fuck you in your bed, make you be so loud that Jeff hears?"

Harry groans at that, nods again. “Please, want it so bad,” he whines, biting on his red bottom lip hard.

Zayn loves this, loves the effect he can have on Harry.

"Get on your hands and knees, want to see your arse."

He does exactly what Zayn asks, turns his head to look at his phone screen from over his shoulder.

Zayn just looks him over, the long line of his back, his round little ass. He thinks about that night Harry asked to be spanked when they had a 2 day break on tour. He’d got Harry in this position, hit him hard 10 times on both cheeks. He let Harry ride him after, slapped him on his arse until Harry came so hard some of it hit his chin. 

“Wish I was there with you,” Zayn says, “I would eat you out. I know how much you like that.”

Harry whimpers. His eyes are heavy lidded when he looks into the camera lens. It surprises him that Harry isn’t staring at the little frame that shows himself, but he guesses that Harry can’t see it from his position on the bed.

"Wanna show you my hole, can I?" Harry asks, almost shyly, widening his legs.

Zayn nods and Harry pauses again.

"Can I get on my back?" he asks, worrying his bottom lip.

"Yeah, if you want." Zayn replies, watches as Harry grabs something hidden behind his phone on the desk. It’s lube, Zayn sees, and Harry lays it on the bed beside him as he gets settled. He’s flat on his back with his knees pulled to his chest, big hands going down to spread his cheeks even more for Zayn to look at. He wishes he could see Harry’s face clearly too, wants to be in Harry’s bedroom so he can see all of him instead of just the angle the camera is giving him.

"Are you going to finger yourself?" Zayn asks. Harry moans in response.

He picks up the lube, pours it on 3 of his fingers. He inches his pointer finger down, circles his hole and smears the lube around. Zayn can see it clench under his fingertip, and the way Harry’s thighs pull taunt.

"Are you gonna show off for me, babe? Get yourself all wet?"

Harry nods, and Zayn can almost see a little smirk on his face before he lays his head down on the bed. He goes for it then, starts sliding in his finger until he gets to his knuckle. He works himself up to 2, scissors his fingers inside himself. Zayn wishes he was there on Harry’s bed, wants to lick in between the spaces of his fingers.

"Feel good, H? You look so hot," Zayn praises, and it makes Harry whimper as he curves his fingers up inside himself. Zayn uses the hand not holding his phone to pull down his sweatpants, and by the time he’s gotten them down his thighs Harry’s worked himself up to 3 fingers. He’s moaning loud, Zayn can see he’s tugging on his hair with his free arm. He hasn’t touched his cock ever since Zayn told him to stop pulling himself off.

"You're being so good. Wanna see your face, why don’t you sit up?" Zayn instructs, and Harry removes his fingers immediately. He sits up and kneels, curls framing his face and his dick standing painfully hard between his legs.

"You can touch your dick again, if you want." Zayn says, and Harry immediately wraps his fingers around it. He gets back into a rhythm, fucking himself with his fingers and circling the head of his cock every couple of strokes. It’s loud even across the iPhone speakers, the slick sound of it coupled with Harry’s whimpers.

"I want to see you getting off too," Harry pouts.

"I can’t do a set up like you have," Zayn says, and Harry pouts some more.

"Just angle it so I can see your face and your prick, that’s all I want."

Zayn laughs, can’t help it. He’s never seen someone look so petulant with their hand on their dick.

"Give me a second, got to find my angle." He holds the phone up, tries to find the best way he can get his whole body in the frame.

"All angles look good on you, arsehole." Harry laughs, but it sounds a bit breathy as he fists his cock.

Zayn finally finds his angle, and he starts jerking himself slowly.

"Are you about to come?"

"Almost. Want you to talk to me more," Harry responds.

"Wish I was with you, miss fucking you so much." Zayn says, and his breath hitches from how fast he’s jerking himself off.

"Miss it too. Want you so bad, Zayn." Harry whines, and he stares straight into the camera like he’s trying to meet Zayn’s eyes.

"I’d let you ride me, yeah? Get you even slicker, pull your hair the way you like," Zayn says, and he’s so close. He can feel it in his toes and his stomach; he’s inches away from it.

"Want me to bounce on your cock? I want that too," Harry says, breathless,"I’m so close.”

"Come for me, H. You've been so good. Want to see you make a mess of yourself," Zayn encourages, fists his own cock rough as he watches.

Harry groans, loud and deep, and comes hard. It drips down his hand, and he milks himself until Zayn can see him gritting his teeth like it hurts.

"Come, Zayn, please. Wish you were here to come it on my face,” Harry says. He takes two of his fingers, shiny wet with come, and sucks on them. He hollows his cheeks, acts like they're a cock.

Harry’s filthy. Zayn comes hard, and he doesn’t even realize he dropped his phone on his chest until he picks it back up and Harry’s smiling at him through the screen.

"Look so hot when you come, can’t wait to see it in person." Harry says, and he’s laying in bed now with his phone in his hands. Zayn tucks himself back into his pants, pulls his joggers back up.

"You looked so hot with your fingers in your arse, can’t believe I didn’t come sooner," Zayn praises, and it makes Harry snort out a laugh.

"Such a nice compliment," he teases.

They just lay on their beds for a minute, staring at each other fondly. Harry’s makes him such a sap, he thinks. He’s got him having pillow talk with him through a phone screen.

"You think Jeff and his girlfriend are still there?" Zayn teases. Harry laughs, looks over at his bedroom door.

"Probably. They may have heard me, I don’t really mind though. Jeff’s heard worse from me." Harry shrugs.

Zayn curious as to what that could be, but he’s tired and not really in the mood for Harry’s long winded stories.

"In all seriousness," Harry starts, "I wish you were here. Missed falling asleep with you, and waking you up by sucking your dick."

He grins as he says it, makes his dimples visible even in the dim light. If he was there, he’d stick his finger into one just to annoy Harry. He’s so gone for him.

“So romantic. I’ve missed falling asleep with your hair suffocating me.” Zayn teases, and it makes Harry give him a faux offended look. Flirting over the phone reminds him of being young, when he would call his girlfriends that he’d had for only two weeks and talk until they’d fall asleep with their phones pressed to their ears.

“Well, I’ve got to go I guess,” Harry frowns, “I don’t feel drunk anymore and my guests have probably feel asleep on my couch.”

“Bye, Harry,” Zayn waves. Harry waves back and pretends to give his phone camera a big smacking kiss. Zayn clicks the “end” button, because he knows Harry’s the type to pull the “you hang up first” shit.

He feels more settled than he has in a while, feels like he really is ready to go off and travel the world again. He falls asleep thinking about Harry’s thick curls in his face and how warm he would be pressed to his chest.


End file.
